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UNCLE'S WILL 

AN ORIGINAL COMEDIETTA IN ONE ACT 

BY 

S. THEYRE 3MJTH -■• - 



New Amarican Edition, Correctly Reprinted from the 
Original Authorized Acting Edition, with the Original 
Casts of the Characters, Argument of the Play, 
Time of Representation, Description of the 
Costumes, Scene and Property Plots, Dia- 
gram of the Stage Setting, Sides of 
Entrance and Exit, Relative Posi- 
tions of the Performers, Expla- 
nation of the Stage Direc- 
tions, ETC., AND ALL OF 

the Stage Business. 



Copyright, 1890, by Harold Roorbach. 




Philadelphia 

The Penn Publishing Company 

1899 



^v 




UNCLE'S- WILL. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 



Charles Cashmore 
Mr. Barker. 
Florence Marigold 



Haymarket Theatre, 

London, 

Oct. 24th, 1873. 

Mr. Kendall. 
Mr. Chippendale. 
Miss Madge Robertson. 
(Mrs. Kendall.-) 



Fifth Avenue Theatre^ 
New York, 
April 6th, 1874. 

Mr. Louis James. 
Mr. W. Davidge. 
Miss Sara Jewett. 



Time of Representation — Forty Minutes. 



THE ARGUMENT. 

Charles Cashmore and Florence Marigold are cousins very much 
in love but determined to detest each other because an eccentric uncle, who 
died nearly a year before, has left them in his will #250,000 on condition that 
they marry within a year from the time of his death. If either refuses to 
fulfill this contract that one shall forfeit his or her share in favor of the 
other; and if both refuse, the money will fall to Mr. Barker, a designing 
old man who, under pretence of reconciling them, labors diligently and 
successfully to confirm their mutual aversion. They become critical of 
each other's peculiarities which they exaggerate into faults, and, as the time 
for decision approaches, become extremely cross and irritable. Finally, as 
a last resource, Mr. Barker artfully places the photograph of a woman in 
Char.les's cap and that of a man in Florence's work-basket, and their 
discovery arouses a sudden storm of wrath in each. Up to this time they 
had been conscious of the advantage that one would derive if the other 
could be induced to refuse the proposed marriage. But now, filled with 
jealousy and rage, they seize writing-materials and passionately renounce 
the marriage and the fortune that should accompany it. The feeling ot 
compulsion having disappeared they become very good friends again and 
find it a great pleasure to talk freely to each other as of old. They realize 
that each is essential to the other's happiness, that it has always been so, 



UNCLE'S WILL. 3 

and in spite of Mr. Barker's chagrin and disappointment they gladly 
destroy the papers of renunciation and decide to abide by the conditions 
of their Uncle's Will. 

COSTUMES. 

Charles. — Black cutaway coat, white waistcoat, grey trousers, naval 
officer's cap with peak, white or fancy neck scarf, patent leather shoes, 
watch and chain. 

Barker.— Black frock coat buttoned up closely, light trousers, silk hat, 
fancy scarf, calf skin shoes, grey or white hair and beard. 

Florence. —Light summer evening dress, slippers, etc., watch. 

PROPERTIES. 

Furniture as per scene plot. Lighted cigar for Charles. Two photo- 
graphs (one of a man, the other of a lady,) for Mr. Barker. Locket on 
Charles's watch chain. Flowers in vase, on table, r. Work-box on table, 
R., containing colored wools, scissors, etc. Lighted lamp and writing 
materials on table, c. Sheet music on piano. Pictures on walls. Hand- 
glass on c. table. 

STAGE SETTING AND SCENE PLOT. 

Marine Backing 



Balcony 
Window 




Door 




Table & Chairs 

AmChair ^|fc 

Toot Stool* Ch ^ 



Scene.— Fancy chamber box ed in 3a, backed with marine drop in 40. 
Window c. in flat, opening upon a balcony. Doors R. 2 e. and l. 2 e. 
Table and two chairs c. Piano, stool and chair up l. Two chairs up r. 
Sofa and small table down r. Arm-chair, with foot-stool in front of it, and 
small chair down L. Carpet down. 

N. B. Set scenery is not essential to the action, and may be dispensed 
With if preferred. r 



4 UNCLES WILL. 

STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

The player is supposed to face the audience. R. means right ; L., left ; 
C, centre; R. c, right of centre; L. a, left of centre; D. F., door in the 
flat or back scene ; R. F., right side of the flat; l. f., left side of the flat; 
R. D., right door; L. D., left door; C. D., centre door; I E., first entrance; 
2 e., second entrance ; u. E., upper entrance; I, 2 or 3 G., first, second 
or third grooves ; UP STAGE, towards the back ; DOWN STAGE, towards the 
footlights. 

R. R. C. C. L. C. L. 

Note. The text of this play is correctly reprinted from the original 

authorized acting edition, without change. The introductory matter has 
been carefully prepared by an expert, and is the only part of this book 
protected by copyright. 





UNCLE'S WILL. 



A sitting-room in a house at Brighton — at back a large witidoiv fac- 
ing the sea, opens on to a balcony — the time is evening — the sea 
may be seen sparkling in the moonlight — as the curtain rises, 
Charles Cashmore slowly passes the window from r. to L., with 
a cigar in his mouth. 

Enter, Mr. Barker, l. d. 

Barker. Charles! {sniffing) Dear me, a very strong smell of 
tobacco. Charles ! Where can he be ? Florence ! where is she 
too, I wonder? They're not together, that's all I can be certain 
of. Was ever such a contradictory couple ? Just because a 
fortune's left them on condition that they marry, they've made up 
their minds to detest each other. $250,000 left to them if they 
marry each other, and forfeited by the one who refuses the match. 
Very strange arrangement, I allow, very strange. A great ques- 
tion, whether it will answer, two people bound to each other in 
this unnatural way! What can come of such a marriage, except 
misery and Siamese twins ? But he always was a strange man, 
their uncle Stephen, a strange fellow — stood five feet four, but 
very eccentric. Ah ! dear, dear ! I shall never look upon his 
like again. Warm-hearted ; but such a cast in his eye ! Dear, 
dear! Well, perhaps it's all for the best ; for if they both refuse, 
the money comes to me. Dear me, what a smell of tobacco ! 
Charles ! 

Enter, Charles, from balcony. 

Charles. Well! 

Barker. Charles, I say ! 

Chas. I know you say Charles, {looking in) Oh! it's you, Mr. 
Barker. 

Barker, {up R.) I say, my dear boy, there's a terrible smell of 
smoking. 

Chas. [down \..) Is there, sir? Ah! perhaps there is ; I've been 
having a weed out here. 



6 UNCLE'S WILL. 

Barker. You shouldn't, Charles. Not that I care about it my- 
self a bit; but Florence will be dreadfully annoyed. It wouldn't 
matter if the wind were the other way, you know ; but as it is 

Chas. But, bless my soul, sir, I can't keep my eye perpetually 
on the weathercock, in order not to annoy her. I am to wait fora 
favorable breeze, I suppose, before I light up, and then throw my 
cigar away half-finished, because the wind has shifted. Hang it, 
sir, am I only to smoke, " weather permitting," like the funnel of 
a pleasure-steamer ? 

Barker, [aside) That don't sound much like a lover, eh! [sits — 
aloud) Pooh! pooh! Charles, you mustn't be unreasonable. lean 
tell you, my dear fellow, that a married man must 

Chas. But I'm not a married man, thank goodness. 

Barker. Well, but you and Florence are next door to married, 
and 

Chas. (sits, L.) Ah ! but people may be next-door neighbors for 
a long time without being better acquainted. 

Barker. I don't understand you, Charles. Do you mean to refuse 
to marry Florence ? 

Chas. No, I don't refuse. 

Barker, (aside) No — no — such luck ! But, my dear boy, you 
must make up your mind at once ; for, you'll recollect, there's 
only a week left of the year which was allowed you and Florence, 
by your uncle Stephen's will, to (sits, R.) 

Chas. I know, sir — to force a crop of love out of season like a 
dish of early peas, to coax just sufficient affection to get through 
the marriage service without perjury. I think such a will as my 
uncle made is a piece of abominable presumption. 

Barker. But, Charles, he was so anxious that this marriage should 
come about. 

Chas. (at table, l.) Then his anxiety went the wrong way to 
work, sir. What way more likely to set us against each other than 
to leave his fortune to Florence and me, only on condition of our 
becoming husband and wife ; to ordain that whichever of us 
refused to fill this contract should forfeit his or her share in favor 
of the other ? Bless my soul ! such a will would breed dissension 
in Elysium. 

Barker. Nay, but Charles, listen to me — forgive me for worrying 
you about this ; but my own position with respect to this money is 
very delicate 

Chas. Yes, I know, sir. 

Barker. For, in case both you and Florence decline to marry, 
the entire sum of $250,000 comes to me. 

Chas. Yes, yes, I know, sir. (impatiently rises) 

Barker. Well, then — but, my dear Charles, you're smoking in 
the room now. 



UNCLE'S WILL. 7 

Chas. [fretfully) Yes — yes — I know, sir. [recollecting) Oh! 
smoking ? Oh ! ah ! yes ! [strolls off to balcony) 

Barker. Now, can they ever be happy together? Never! It's 
only kind to separate them ; and any little device which one may 
employ to bring about that end, [feeling in his pocket) why it's 
common humanity. So I've got two photographs here: one of a 
lady, and the other of a gentleman. There, we'll put the gentle- 
man [suiting action to word) into her work-box ; and when we've 
an opportunity, we'll put the lady into his hat, [rubbing his hands) 
and the best results may be anticipated. Not that I do it to bene- 
fit myself — oh ! no. If this meney comes to me, it will all be spent 
in charity — I should found an asylum for insane dogs ! That has 
been the dream of my life ; and perhaps I'd better mention it to 
Charles, [calls) Charles! — it will show I've no mercenary motive 
— Charles ! 

Chas. [leaning against window and looking in) Well, sir? 

Barker. I just want to explain to you that, should this money by 
any accident come to me, I shall employ it all in charity. 

Chas. Indeed, sir ! 

Barker. Yes, Charles. You're aware, of course, of the great 
increase in the number of cases of hydrophobia of late years. 

Chas. Can't say I was. 

Barker. Oh ! yes ; the cases are now 6254. times as numerous as 
they were at the time of the deluge — statistics show it. 

Chas. Of the deluge ! Well, now, I should have fancied, if 
there ever was a period when hydrophobia would have been com- 
mon, not to say excusable 

Barker. Now, the root of the matter is, of course, the dogs ; and 
those poor lunatics must be our first consideration. Therefore, if 
this money comes to me, I intend to found an asylum for insane 
dogs — a canine Bedlam, Charles. 

Chas. You don't say so, sir! [aside) And he'll be the maddest 
dog among them. 

Barker. But, ha ! ha ! pooh ! it will never come to me, of 
course ; you don't mean, I'm sure, that you don't care for that 
girl? 

Chas. (crosses and sits on sofa, R.) Care for her? Pooh ! [blow- 
ing smoke out) 

Barker. Why, where's the objection to her? Isn't she pretty? 

Chas. 'Pon my word, I scarcely know ; I never look at her if I 
can help it. 

Barker, [aghast) Never looks at the girl he's going to marry ! 

Chas. No ; why should I? I'm to have nothing else to look at 
for the rest of my life, I suppose, so it is as well to be economical. 

Barker. But, Charles, think how accomplished she is. Why, 
my dear boy, she speaks three languages. 



8 UNCLE'S WILL. 

Chas. I can swear to two, at any rate ; for I observe she uses 
quite a different one to me, to what she does to other people. 

Barker. You should hear her speak French ; 'gad ! you'd think 
it was her own language. 

Chas. Aye, no doubt, from the liberties she takes with it. 

Barker. And then she plays : why, it's a real pleasure to me to 
hear her practicing. 

Chas. A pleasure ! Jove ! it sickens me — that everlasting con- 
junction of the Virgin and the scales. 

Barker, [seated, L.) Come, come, Charles, be reasonable ; don't 
let any silly scruples or absurd romance prevent your carrying out 
your uncle's intentions. 'Tis not a pleasant thing to be bound to 
take one particular partner for life, I allow ; some minds couldn't 
consent to it. An intimate friend of my own, some time back, 
was left just in this way : renounced the legacy, and went to 
Australia, where he found a nugget. Ahem ! fortune favors the 
brave — ahem ! But don't let that weigh with you. A very fine 
fellow he was — tall, but romantic. Don't imitate his example; 
sacrifice the nobler feelings of your nature a little, for the sake of 
the fortune. Friend of mine did so once — excellent man ; stout, 
but superstitious — destroyed himself soon afterward, poor fellow ! 
But don't let that influence you, don't. But, Charles, you're 
smoking again ! [looks off, r. 2 e.) And here comes Florence. O 
dear ! what she'll say, I don't know 

Chas. And I don't care, [going off balcony, C. andL.) 

Barker, There's a speech for a lover! 

Enter, Florence Marigold, r. 2 e. 

Flor. Dear me ! [crosses, L.) What a dreadful smell of smoke ! 
I declare it makes me quite sick, [turns up light on table) 

Barker, (l.) Yes, my dear, Charles ■ 

Flor. Oh ! that is explanation enough, Mr. Barker ; the mention 
of Mr. Cashmore's name quite accounts for the sensation I referred 
to. 

Chas. [passing window') Pleasant that ! Ha, ha ! [passes on) 

Barker. Dear, dear ! I'm sorry to hear you speak in this way, 
Florence. There may be a good deal that is objectionable about 
Charles, but you should try to look on the bright side. 

Flor. How can I, Mr. Barker, when he has none — where each 
side is equally rude and unpolished? 

Barker. Well, well, I allow his manners would bear mending. 

Flor. [sits on sofa) Nay, they are positively too bad to mend — 
no patching can restore them ; nothing but a new set will be of any 
avail ; he has absolutely the manners of a bear — worse ; I declare 
he behaves to me as if he were my husband ; if he had sworn at 
the altar to love and to cherish me, he could not treat me with 
more shameful indifference. 



UNCLE'S WILL. 9 

Barker, (sits beside her) Ok ! yes, very sad ; but as long as that 
vow has not been taken, you are still— still free, you know. 
Flor. Eh? 

Barker. You need not fulfill the contract, my dear, you know, 
unless you like. 

Flor. What ! and hand over the £250,000 to him for the benefit 
of some other woman, some creature he has fallen in love with 
abroad ! Is it likely, now ?— do the very thing he wants me to do 
— is it likely, now ? 

Barker, (aside) Plaguey unlikely, indeed, whether you marry 
him or not. (aloud) Of course, my dear, I see you intend to 
marry him. 

Flor. I've not decided what I shall do. 

Barker. But you've only a week left, now, to 

Flor. Yes, I know, Mr. Barker. 

Barker. And if you don't come to an understanding by then, the 

money reverts to 

Flor. Yes, I know, sir. 

Barker. And will go to found a hospital for insane dogs. 
Flor. Yes, I know— the money will go to the dogs, whether you 
get it or Charley, most likely. 

Barker. Come, come, Florence, you must not let your high 
principle and your nobler feelings stand in your light in this matter. 
It never answers — at least not always. I certainly did know a 
young lady, a pretty girl, though far inferior to yourself, but a 
pretty girl, blue eyes and golden hair, and a beautiful singer, 
situated much as you are, who boMly refused to sell herself, as she 
called it. But she was romantic— ma-ried an earl afterward. 
Ahem! virtue is its own reward! — ahem! But you must not be 
moved by this. You may not love Charley now, perhaps, but love 
always comes after marriage, they say, and no doubt it does. 
Knew a case myself — a lady who rather disliked her husband than 
otherwise when she married him ; fell desperately in love afterward 

head over ears, my dear, most satisfactorily — except that, now I 

think of it, it was with the wrong man — man in the army, a major, 
but unprincipled — ended in somebody's shooting somebody — I 
forget who. Sad — very sad. But you must not mind my tale. 

Charles is a very nice, good-looking (rises) 

Flor. (rises) Mr. Barker, if he were as handsome as Apollo, I 
should still detest a man that I was obliged by will to marry. I'm 
left to him — left as if I were a mere piece of property, something 
in the stocks, or so many railway snares, or a cellar of wine — 
legacy duty to be paid on me perhaps, and a photograph of me, 
for all I know, to be seen for a quarter at the Surrogate's office. 
It's wicked, it s shameful ! 

Barker. So it is, my dear ; so it is. (soothingly) 

Flor. I'm a martyr; that's the real fact— an unhappy martyr. 



IO UNCLE'S WILL. 

Barker. So you are, my dear. 

Flor. But if I'm driven to marry him 

Barker, [aside) Some one else will be the martyr then — not a 
doubt of it. 

Flor. If I were a man, it would be different ; but a poor, unpro- 
tected girl. (Charles enters, Barker rises, goes to R. of table) 
Thank you, Mr. Cashmore, for smoking in the room where I have 
to sit. 

Chas. Don't mention it — quite welcome, [takes off his cap, puts 
it on table, c. ) 

Flor. Impertinent ! 

Chas. [aside) Now, I'll rile her. [aloud) I've such a joke to tell 
you, Mr. Barker. 

Barker. Have you, Charles ; what is it ? 

Chas. Why, when the Thunderer was off Kingston — [looks at 
Florence) Ah ! never mind, I'll tell you some other time. 

Barker. Nay, that's a shame, Charley ; come, what is it? 

Chas. No; another time, sir. Besides, perhaps it's not worth 
telling, after all. 

Barker. Pooh! pooh! Charles; let's hear it. 

Flor. Why trouble him about his joke, Mr. Barker; a man may 
really do what he likes with his own. 

Chas. I did not say that it was my own. 

Flor. You said it was not worth telling, which is much the same 
thing. 

Chas. Then, as it happens, it is not my own. 

Flor. No ; I never supposed that wit of yours could be honestly 
come by. 

Barker. Oh ! come, come ! [aside) That doesn't sound much 
like marriage, I think, or rather a great deal too much like mar- 
riage, to be at all like courtship. 

Chas. [aside) She's in a beautiful temper, ready to fly out at 
every thing. I'll just provoke her till she's in a thundering rage, 
and then — then if she accepts me, there's no trusting a woman 
for the future, [to Barker) Would you mind leaving us for a 
minute or two, Mr. Barker? [strolls out on balcony , humming an air] 

Barker. Certainly, certainly! [aside) They'll fight like fury! 
[aloud) Ahem! I can't think why they've not sent the tea up, 
Florence ; I'll go and see about it. [with meaning) You must be 
prepared for Charles saying something pointed, you know, my 
dear, and — and, so be on your guard. 

Flor. Thanks for the warning, Mr. Baker ; the surprise might 
have been too overpowering, considering how blunt his remarks 
usually are. (Exit, Barker, r. d., slipping photo, into Charles' 
cap as he passes — after a pause, Florence looks toward c, then 
turns bark again) Now, as long as I can keep him thoroughly 
out of temper, he can't, for very shame, propose to me. It's 






UNCLE'S WILL. II 

abominable that I should be driven to such expedients, but per- 
haps it's rather wrong playing with fire in this way. (Charles con- 
tinues to hum) Mr. Cashmore, if it would not be asking too much, 
would you oblige me by ceasing to make that shocking noise on the 
balcony ? 

Chas. [doivn C.) Shocking noise! Ha! ha! ha! I declare I 
can do nothing right. 

Flor. A sad confession of incapacity indeed, and the sadder for 
its undoubted truth. 

Chas. [aside] Confound her ! [aloud] I declare I haven't the 
privileges of a dog. 

Flor. Oh ! how can you say so when you've been baying the 
moon for the last twenty minutes ? 

Chas. [sits, R.) Twenty minutes ! Time must pass very quickly 
with you. 

Flor. That depends upon my company, [looks at her ivatch) 
Only nine o'clock. Dear me ! I thought it was much later. But 
you should be careful how you expose yourself to the moon, 
Mr. Cashmore, for they say that it has a tendency to send people 
out of their minds. 

Chas. No doubt! The Honeymoon — ha! ha! Don't think I 
am paying you a compliment ; but the man who marries you should 
be possessed of every virtue under heaven. 

Flor. [with look of surprise) Well, I'm sure, indeed, but you are 
very complimentary, [softer tone) Should he indeed ? 

Chas. Yes; for, by Jove ! he'll need them every one. 

Flor. If you can't speak without insulting me, I beg you will 
hold your tongue. 

Chas. [aside) Ah ! I thought that would do it ! [aloud) I'm agree- 
able, I'm sure. 

Flor. Agreeable ! you never were more mistaken, never in your 
whole life. 

Chas. Quite an epoch in one's existence then, by Jove ! 

Flor. Don't use words you don't understand. 

Chas. What words don't I understand ? [crosses to her) Ha ! 
ha ! You think I'm a fool, it seems. 

Flor. No — no, I don't ; I don't go entirely by appearances. 

Chas. [angry) How? 

Flor. There, there, be quiet, pray, [aside] I've kept him off so 
far. 

Chas. [aside] Hang it ! it's I that have lost my temper. 

Seats himself behind her, with his back toward her — a pause — he 
yawns — she frowns a little — he looks at his watch and sighs — she 
frowns again — he yawns again. 

Flor. [losing patience) Did you speak ? 

Chas. I ? No ; why the dickens should I speak? 

L.ofC. 



12 UNCLE'S WILL. 

Flor. To conceal your thoughts ; they are not polite. 

Chas. My thoughts are my own. 

Flor. That accounts for their want of politeness, but does not 
excuse it. 

Chas. Well, I wonder what you'll take offense at next? I 
should have thought that as long as I kept my mouth shut 

Flor. Which you didn't, you know. You yawned twice. 

Chas. {warmly) Pardon me, I only sighed, Miss Marigold. 

Flor. Indeed ! May I ask who taught you sighing ? 

Chas. 'Gad ! you should know. 

Flor. Well, perhaps I can guess, {thoughtfully) Was it — a — 
Grampus ? 

Chas. {aside) Hang her ! [aloud) What do you know about 
Grampuses? Who's using words she doesn't understand now ? 

Flor. Oh ! I am not as ignorant as you imagine. I have some 
acquaintance with sea-monsters, you know — ha ! ha ! Mr. Cash- 
more, ha ! ha ! 

Chas. {rises) What a confounded temper she has got ! There's 
no putting her out. 

Flor. And what was the weighty cause for this powerful sigh? 
Will you condescend to put into words the thoughts that turn to 
breath so loudly ? 

Chas. As you're so good at guessing, perhaps you'd better guess 
again. 

Flor. {contemptuously) How should I know what makes men 
sigh ? Debts, perhaps, debts of honor, as they call the most dis- 
honorable of all debts ! Giving, as their fashion is, the best names 
to the worst things. 

Chas. Ay ; it is on that principle they called women angels, I 
suppose. 

Flor. You are insolent, Mr. Cashmore. 

Chas. {aside) That's done it ! {aloud, stage it.) Ha! ha! Come, 
don't lose your temper. 

Flor. I lose my temper? What ! for any thing you can say ? 
Ha ! ha ! You must think my temper is worth as little as yours 
is. 

Chas. I fancy I know what my temper is worth better than — 
any one else does. 

Flor. No doubt ; for they say that a man never knows the real 
value of a thing till he's lost it ; so you ought to indeed. Ha ! 
ha! 

Chas. {aside) There's no provoking her. I must do something 
desperate, {throwing himself 071 chair, L., beside her) 

Flor. {startled) Are there no other seats in the room, Mr. Cash- 
more ? 

Chas. None so comfortable as this, {stretches out his feet, puts 
them on stool at her feet) 



UNCLE'S WILL. 13 

Flor. Upon my word ! Am I to have that footstool, pray, or 
you ? 

Chas. Suppose we toss for it. 

Flor, Sir! {rising indignantly, crossing v..} 

Chas. {promptly stretches one leg on chair where she has been sit- 
ting) I've a lucky sixpence somewhere, {feeling in his pockets) 

Flor. Your rudeness is past all [choking with rage) 

Chas. Now, then, will you cry, or shall I ? {she bursts into tears) 
Oh! you. 

Flor. You — you dreadful bear! You — you {goes toward 

door, R.) 

Chas. What! for wanting to toss you? If you'd said bull 
now 

Flor. Mr. Cashmore, if I can help it, I'll never speak to you 
again, {goes up c.) 

Chas. {thoughtfully) Well, that might have its advantage, sup- 
posing we married. But no, no. Hang it ! silence gives consent. 
That'll never do. Stop, Miss Marigold. I must be mad to lose 
such an opportunity ; she'll never be in such a heavenly temper 
again, {louder) Miss Marigold, ahoy ! 

Flor. I beg you'll remember, Mr. Cashmore, that you are not 
on board ship now. I can be spoke — don't you call it? — without 
a " Miss Marigold, ahoy ! " 

Chas. {eagerly) Yes, yes— I beg pardon, {aside) Ah ! that 
heavenly favor, {aloud) I want to say a word to you, please. 
{aside) There's a charming "No!" on the very lips of her. 
{aloud) I've something to ask you. {crossing to c.) 

Flor. {aside) Good gracious ! is there no stopping him? {aloud) 
Then you'd better put off your request till another time, for, just 
at present, whatever you ask I shall be quite certain to refuse. 

Chas. {eagerly) Yes, yes ; I know — I mean — {aside) There's not 
a moment to be lost. 

Flor. {aside) There's no stopping him ! What shall I do ? 

Turns her head from him — Charles takes her hand and draws 
her toward him — she allows herself to be drawn, following a little 
reluctantly, with head averted. 

Chas. I need not call to your recollection, I am sure, the will of 
our late confounded uncle — I mean of that departed saint, our 
uncle Stephen. 

Flor. {in a low voice, without turning to him) No Charles. 

Chas. {with a start, dropping her hand— aside) Charles ! I 
don't like that, {aloud) Well, then, you'll remember, of course, 
that in obedience to the provisions — {aside, uneasily) — in obedience 
— she's infernally quiet — {aloud) in obedience, I say, to the pro- 
visions of that most iniquitous doc — that is — {aside, looking at her) 
—what the plague is she blushing about?— [aloud) of that most 



14 



UNCLE'S WILL. 



righteous document, I am bound, whether I like it or not — that is, 
in fact, in accordance with the last wishes of our uncle Stephen, I 
now beg to offer you — {she turns to him, smiling sweetly — his face 
blanks suddenly) — a chair! [bringing one down to her— aside) 
Confound that smile ! 

Flor. Well, dear? 

Chas. {aside) Dear ! This will never do. {aloud) Under the cir- 
cumstances {retiring, l.) 

Flor. {following him up) Well, dear ? 

Chas. {retiring again) I am compelled 

Flor. (following) Yes, love. 

Chas. {retiring) For — for a short time 

Flor. {following) Well darling? 

Chas. {gaining door) To — leave you. Exit, quickly, L. D. 

She ?nakes a comic courtesy as he exits, then turns triumphantly. 

Flor. Victory ! Oh ! his face when I turned and smiled on 
him ; when I — what do they call it? — unmasked the battery ! 
Poor — ahem-! — rude, impertinent, cruel, hateful — {her voice softens 
with every word) — poor Charley ! Ah ! dear. I've won the 
victory ; but who was it said a victory was the next saddest thing 
to a defeat ? How he detests me ! Heigho ! {perceiving his cap 
as she puts chair up) Ah ! the spoils of victory abandoned by the 
enemy in his retreat, {takes it up suddenly and photo, drops out of 
it) What's that? Oh! his carte-de-visite. Ah! I wanted to see 
it, and, of course, I couldn't ask. {takes it up, starts violently, 
drops cap, c.) Oh ! oh ! indeed! Very fine ! Upon my word, a 
woman ! So this is the reason for the change in him. Now, if 
any thing could be more insulting than the way in which he has 
behaved to me lately, it would be giving this person as the reason 
of it! Surely no one could — no.no; I'm sure it's impossible! 
And this is his taste, is it ? How going to sea brutalizes a man ! 
I wouldn't have believed it. Such a — I'm sure she's a foreigner ; 
there's something very French about her face — about all of her, in 
fact, except her dress. Ha ! ha ! nothing French about that — that's 
homely enough. Well, now, my course is plain — now I hesitate 
no longer. While I thought that he probably loved me still, that 
it was the feeling of compulsion only that vexed him, I might, per- 
haps, have — but now that I know he detests me — now that I'm 
convinced he loves another — now let him beware how he pro- 
poses to me ! For if he does, I'll accept him instantly. 

Exit, R. 2 E. 

Enter, Charles cautiously, L. D. 

Chas. Left my cap. Hang it ! didn't leave it on the floor, 
though. Ah ! small doubt how it came there ; there's no trusting 
a woman for a moment, [reflecting) It's too bad, upon my 



UNCLE'S WILL. 15 

honor, leading a fellow on in this way ; giving him hopes that 
she never means to fulfill, and then, when he makes his offer, 
jumping at it in that [sits on sofa) indecent fashion. It's a kind 
of flirtation turned the wrong way, that's infinitely disgusting. 
'Gad! there's no hope for me, no hope of her having taken the 
vow of celibacy, or fallen in love with another man {/ays his arm 
on table, tips work-basket over) or— hang it ! I've overturned her 
work-basket! Well, who cares? [beginning to put things back in 
it) What does it — hallo! what's this? A man's picture in her 
work-box ! Well, I am — now, I should just like to know what 
confounded, impudent rascal this is to lay his ugly, brazen face 
in my wife's work-box ; though what on earth she can see in such 
a plaguey, ill-looking fellow, I can't understand. What a contra- 
diction woman is ! I dare say now this fool has not a dollar to 
bless himself with ; and yet she prefers an ugly pauper like this to 
— bless my soul ! well, this settles it ; surely she can't have the face 
to accept me when I can confront her with this ! No ; I hold the 
trump card now, at any rate, and — and the sooner we play off the 
rubber the better. Wonder where she's gone ! Miss Marigold ! 
Stop ! St. Cecilia, aid me. (sits at piano, hammers at random) 
This will fetch her to a certainty. Orpheus taught us long ago 
how savage things will follow music. That's the style. Ah! 
(Enter Florence hurriedly and angrily, R. 2 e.) I thought so. 
Thanks, gentle Cecilia ; you still can draw an angel down, I see. 

Flor. Oh! it's you, Mr. Cashmore. 

Chas. (rising lightly) You have reason, Miss Marigold, as the 
French say. 

Flor. I'm sorry I can't return the compliment, if that's the way 
you treat a piano. May I ask what you were playing ? 

Chas. Oh ! a march out of — something. 

Flor. Yes, out of time. Then no more of your marches on my 
piano, if you please ; you might have been playing with your 
feet. 

Chas. Right way to play a march, too, I should say. Now, Miss 
Marigold, will you listen to me for five minutes ? 

Flor. To your playing, do you mean ? If so, I must beg to 
decline your offer. 

Chas. Not to my playing ; but don't let that prevent you from 
declining my — ahem ! What I have to say is this— you know 
exactly 

Flor. Then you need not repeat it. 

Chas. I'm not going to ; but you are well aware 

Flor. Then leave well alone — do. 

Chas. Now, how can a man make an offer when he's pulled up 
short every minute like an omnibus-horse ? 

Flor. (aside) Now, it's coming indeed, (aloud) An offer ? 

Chas. Ay, you'll have me now. An offer is about the only 



l6 UNCLE'S WILL. 

thing from a man's mouth which a woman will listen to without 
interruption. 

Flor. If your conscience doesn't stop you, why should I ? 

Chas. Conscience ! You talk of conscience ! Ha ! ha ! You 
see this photograph? Now, look well at it. You recognize it, I 
see. 

Flor. Recognize it ! I beg your pardon, I never saw it before 
in my life. 

Chas. What! when I found it in your own work-box ? Pshaw ! 
Miss Marigold. Confess the game's up! I play the knave, {throws 
it on table) 

Flor. You do play the knave, or the — ahem! But the trick's 
mine, all the same. I hold the queen, [shows photo.) Who's that, 
eh? I found it in your cap, Mr. Cashmore. 

Chas. Another trick of yours, I suppose. I never saw it before. 

Flor. Don't be a coward, sir. Don't be so false as to disown 
the — the creature of your choice. 

Chas. Who's allowed a choice ? I'm not. By thishideous will, 
I'm to be tied and bound with your hands — a fettered slave — it's 
monstrous! 

Flor. As you regret it so deeply, you will, of course, renounce 
your right, and 

Chas. [sulkily) I never said I regretted it. 

Flor. Then you approve of this — this arrangement? 

Chas. Approve ! Do you ? 

Flor. I think that a more wicked exercise of the rights of pro- 
perty was never perpetrated — that it is simply condemning help- 
less beings to life-long misery. 

Chas. Then you decline to fulfill our late uncle's wishes as — as 
per will? 

Flor. [sullenly) I never said I declined. 

Chas. Come, come ; no equivocation. Do you or do you not? 

Flor. Then I'm to take this as a formal proposal on your part, 
am I? 

Chas. Proposal ! I made no proposal, [they each take an angry 
turn through the room) 

Flor. Well, you may say what you like now, but you were des- 
perately in love with me before you sailed. 

Chas. Ha ! ha ! A nice idea! Wasn't the love rather the other 
way? 

Flor. [angrily) And, however you may deny it, you're in love 
with me still. Do you hear? — still ! 

Chas. Ha! ha! ha! What will you say next, I wonder? 

Flor. Not in love with me ! Why, your very watch-chain 
betrays you— you've a lock of my hair there at this moment. I 
see it now. What does that prove ? 

Chas. And if I have, who gave me the lock ? So ! 



UNCLE'S WILL. 1 7 

Flor. I didrit give it you ; you cut it off with your own hands. 
So now ! 

Chas. And for that purpose, you handed me your own scissors. 
So now ! 

Flor. But you wear it now, and as a token of love. 

Chas. Pardon me. I wear it as a token of conquest. Things 
of this kind gain one credit with one's messmates, you know. I 
wear it Indian fashion. Victory ! I've taken a scalp. 

Flor. You savage ! But you can't deceive me ; you would give 
your ears to marry me. 

Chas. Marry you ! {angry) I wouldn't marry you if the #250,000 
were #500,000. By my own act, make myself wretched for life — 
for so much filthy lucre ? No ! never. There ! I've said it — no ! 
never — not if you break your heart about it, as I know you will — 
yes, break your heart. 

Flor. [terrible rage) For you ! — break my heart for you ? Why, 
I wouldn't marry you for a million. It is not you who decline to 
marry me, it is I that refuse to marry you. (Enter Barker, r. 
door) I utterly and scornfully refuse your offer ! There ! 

Barker, [aside) That's one. O dear ! O dear! 

Chas. Refuse my offer ! Refuse what I never made ! I 
wouldn't make you the offer. I decline the bargain altogether. 
There ! 

Barker, [aside) That's the other, [aloud, and advancing) Dear! 
dear! what's all this? You're never really 

Chas. The matter is, sir, that I ■ 

Flor. Utterly and distinctly refuse 

Chas. To marry her. { ~ ,, 

Flor. To marry him. } l0 g etfier - ^ 

Barker. Oh ! come, come now, a joke's a joke ; but 

Flor. I beg you will not speak of this as a joke, Mr. Barker. 

Barker. Pooh ! pooh ! my dear, this is only a little bit of school- 
girl folly. 

Flor. You rather exceed the license which your years and posi- 
tion give you, sir, in speaking to me in those terms. 

Barker. Think no more of it, Charles, she's put out a little ; she'll 
soon come round. 

Flor. You never were more mistaken ; I repeat, I absolutely 
refuse to marry him. 

Barker, [aside) Good! [aloud) And you, Charles, you're only 
in joke ; you're playing the fool a little — that's all. 

Chas. What do you mean, sir ? I repeat, I distinctly decline to 
fulfill the provisions of the will; I'd sooner get my bread with a 
spade and a wheelbarrow. 

Barker. O Charles ! that would be turning navigator after a new 
fashion. Ha! ha! 

Flor. And I'd sooner get my living under the worse than Egyp- 
tian bondage of a fashionable milliner. 



18 UNCLE'S WILL. 

Barker. Oh ! my dear, that's the way to get your death, not your 
living. But I can say no more ; if you are really in earnest, you 
must each write a renunciation of your claims. But, pshaw ! you're 
only joking — only 

Chas. {turning to table) I'll do it this moment. 

Flor. [turning to table) I'll not lose a second. 

Barker, [running to back of table) O dear ! dear ! what would 
your poor uncle say ? There's paper, best cream-laid. Can no 
arrangements of mine cure this unfortunate — a steel pen or a quill, 
Charles ? 

Chas. [sharply) Steel, sir. 

Barker. Yes, Charles ; but let me beg of you to stop a moment 
before you — there's the ink — I'm sure if any thing I could say 
would induce you to — a hard nib or a soft, my dear? 

Flor. [viciously) Hard, if you please, as hard as possible. 

Barker. Yes, my dear, it's just like you. Well now, I think 
you'd better say 

Chas. I shall know what to say. 

Barker. Just so, Charles, just so. But I think you had better 
express it in some such words as 

Flor. I shall be at no loss for words, sir ! 

Barker. No, my dear, no. [aside) When is a woman, I should 
like to know? [aloud) No — well, then, I'll leave you for a short 
time, while — but do be persuaded to reconsider this — while I fetch 
a witness, [aside) To think it will come to those lunatic dogs after 
all! Exit, L. D. 

They sit opposite each other at table writing, glancing angrily at 
each other. 

Flor. Can't you write three lines without groaning and hissing 
in that way, Mr. Cashmore ? 

Chas. Who's hissing and groaning? 

Flor. Why, you were ; and though no doubt any composition of 
yours is well calculated to provoke such sounds, yet it puts me 
out. 

Chas. Ay ! any thing puts you out — a temper like yours. 

Flor. [looking up sweetly) Do you spell fiend, i-e or e-it 

Chas. I don't know. 

Flor. No ! you won't know how to write your own name 
next. 

Chas. Shan't I? [a pause — they write) How many b's are there 
in abominable ? 

Flor. A perfect hive ; so you'd better not put your head in it, as 
one of your family did once — you recollect, [reads to herself) 
" Manners of a bear, language of a savage, cruelty of the " 

Chas. You're using rather hard words, I fancy, (looking across 
at her) 



UNCLE'S WILL. 19 

Flor. Oh ! I can spell them, [writes) There ! 
Chas. {throwing down pen and rising) There! [reads) "As 
by my uncle's will, I am compelled either to give up the sum of 
#250,000, or to marry Miss Florence Marigold, a young lady 
admirably calculated to make any man miserable, whose vile 
temper, and vixenish manners, and abominable love of talking 
would turn a church out of windows, I, Charles Cashmore, of my 
own free will, renounce my rights to the said money, and look 
upon such renunciation as ransom paid to release me from a life- 
long captivity." 

Flor. Very poor, (reads) " As I am bound by my uncle's will 
either to renounce my right to a fortune of $250,000, or to unite 
myself for life to one who combines in his own person the manners 
of the bear with the language of the savage and the cruelty of the 
fiend, I, Florence Marigold, voluntarily and cheerfully renounce my 
right to the above fortune, preferring poverty and freedom to 
affluence and a bride." 

Chas. Ha ! ha ! very mild. 

Flor. I'm glad you think so. I was afraid it might sound bitter. 

Chas. So it does— it's both mild and bitter, like a public-house 
tap. 

Flor. (indignantly) Vulgar ! The illustrations people use are a 
certain key to their minds ; just as by the pictures on one's wall, 
you can tell whether the owner is a person of taste or not. 

Chas. Well, it's no use quarreling any longer. Actum est, by 
Jove ! 
Throwing paper on table, and seating himself at farther end of room. 

Flor. Yes, it's settled at last, (laying paper on table, and sitting 
on sofa) 

Chas. Ha! ha! ha! Merely as a matter of curiosity, let me ask 
you, just as a peaceable explanation of your conduct, what could 
you do with $250,000? 

Flor. Do fifty thousand things. 

Chas. At a dollar a piece — open a dollar store ? 

Flor. Do ! give it to the poor. 

Chas. You'd have done that had you given it to me. 

Flor. I meant the deserving poor. 

Chas. So did I. But, come, the bone of contention has disap- 
peared; there's no use of our quarreling any more. By Jove! 
Ha! ha! ha!— upon my life— ha! ha! ha! ha! 

Flor. (aside, uneasily) What is he laughing at? 

Chas. Bless my soul! Ha! ha! ha! 

Flor. What are you laughing at, Mr. Cashmore? Do you see 
anything comic in the present business? 

Chas. Faith, I do; I always laugh most at jokes that tell against 
myself. 



20 UNCLE'S WILL. 

Flor. Then how heartily you must laugh at your own. [aside, 
with a smile) I like to hear him laugh as he used to do, though. 

Chas. Ha! ha! ha! Well, we've done it now, Florence, haven't 
we? Ha! ha! 

Flor. [aside, starting) Florence ! 

Chas. [goes to table, takes paper up and throws it down again) 
"Sweet are the uses of adversity." I declare [taking stage) I 
feel as if some dull weight had been lifted off my shoulders. 

Flor. Seems to have lost his head, indeed. 

Chas. By Jove ! I feel my own man again. 

Flor. In good time, when poverty has just made it impossible 
for you to keep a servant. 

Chas. Ha! ha! — yes, just so — very good — ha! ha! By George! 
$250,000 are a heavy burden after all — too heavy ; don't you 
think so, Flossie? [standing behind sofa, leaning over her) 

Flor. [aside, with a start a?id a sigh) Flossie! how nice to hear 
it again ! [aloud) All burdens would be heavy to those whose 
hands were tied ; wouldn't they — ahem ! — Charles ? 

Chas. Of course they would, [aside) I'd no idea she was such 
a sensible girl, [aloud) Of course they would, [leans over sofa) 
Bless my soul ! Flossie, what a pleasure it is to be able to talk 
freely to you again. We can be capital friends now, can't we, 
eh? [aside) What stunning hair she's got. 

Flor. Why, of course ; as we're not to be husband and wife, 
where's the use of quarreling? 

Chas. Where, indeed ! [aside) No idea she was so well informed. 
[aloud) Yes, we can be the best of friends in the world. Now 
we'll enter into a regular offensive and defensive alliance — won't 
we? — whereas, if we'd gone and married 

Flor. It would have been an offensive alliance. 

Chas. Ye — es. [aside) Don't feel quite so certain of that as I 
did. [aloud) Now, I say, Flossie [pauses when on the point of 
sitting beside her) — you don't mind my sitting here — here now ? 

Flor. Oh ! no, Charley. 

Chas. [aside) Charley ! jolly it is to hear her call me Charley 
again, [sits) Now look here, Flossie, when — when — [a pause ; he 
looks at her, she looks down) — I say, what grand eyes she's got ! 
[aside, a?id in the tone of one making a discovery) 

Flor. Well ! [he sighs as if waking from a dream) Well, 
Charley ? 

Chas. [aside, uneasily) I'd no notion she was so uncommon 
pretty, [aloud) Then we are friends again, Flossie — eh? 

Flor. Oh ! yes, Charley. 

Chas. Then shake hands, [she gives her hand, he retains it — a 
pause — they both sigh) If my uncle Stephen had not been so con- 
founded arbitrary, [half aside) 

Flor. What do you say, Charley ? 

Chas. I say he was a good old bird, Uncle Stephen, eh ? — ahem 1 



UNCLE'S WILL. 21 

Flor. Yes, wasn't he? — kindness itself! — such a dear old man 
to look at too ! 

Chas. Wasn't he — bar the squint. 

Flor. O Charley ! I am sure it was nothing to speak of. 

Chas. The less said about it the better, you mean. Yes, by- 
Jove ! never knew such a difficult man to look at in the face as 
he was ; you never caught both of his eyes at the same time. I 
declare they might have been husband and wife, they both took 
such entirely different views. 'Gad! he was like a ship that only 
fires her broadsides into you one by one. 

Flor. You were born to be a sailor, Charley, for always when 
you're nice and natural, you use sea phrases. 

Chas. Well, a'n't I always natural, Flossie ? 

Flor. [with a pout) No ; sometimes you're very unnatural. 

Chas. [aside] Faith, she's right. What a blessed fool I've 
been! [looks at her hand which he holds) Why, Flossie, you've 
got the ring I gave you on your finger now. 

Flor. [alarmed) Oh! have I? Ah! yes; it — it won't come off, 
though I pull it ever so hard, [affecting to pull) 

Chas. [rises and walks L. ) Oh ! I wouldn't pull it, you might — 
so you've worn this ever since, have you, Floss? 

Flor. Why, it — it wouldn't come off, Charley. Of course I 
have. I'm sorry it displeases you to see it there ; but 

Chas. Displeases me ! [eagerly) Not at all, upon my honor ; it 
has given me the first sensation of real, unadulterated rapture that 
I have enjoyed since that confounded will of — ahem ! [catches 
sight of paper — drops her hand) 

Flor. Well, it must come off now, of course. 

Chas. Ye — es. 

Flor. And you must give me back that locket, I suppose ! 

Chas. Ye — es ! I [warmly) give you back this locket, give back 
this, which for the last two years has been my only consolation in 
absence and danger — which, when they asked me what it was, I 
used to say was the hair of the dog that bit me ! 

Flor. [aside) How nice of him ! how poetical ! 

Chas. Part with this ! [recollecting) Yes, I suppose so. [aside) 
What the dickens has come to me ? 

Flor. [sadly) Thank you, Charley. 

Chas. [embarrassed tone) Oh! no.no — don't thank me. 

Flor. Why shouldn't I thank you? It's for the last time I sup- 
pose. 

Chas. Eh ! why — why 

Flor. Oh ! we must be very distant for the future of course. 

Chas. Ah ! yes— of [sits on sofa again) 

Flor. And get farther and farther away from each other every 
day. 

Chas. Yes, farther and farther, [getting nearer) 



22 UNCLE'S WILL. 

Flor. And from this time behave to each other as the merest 
acquaintances, [she makes a bouquet and puts it in his button-hole) 

Chas. Yes. [getting quite close, takes her hand) The merest 
acquaintances. 

Flor. Almost like strangers in fact. 

Chas. [kisses her hand absently) Ah! yes — like strangers. 

Flor. [quivering tone) Not a bit — like brother and sister, as we 
used to be. 

Chas. Not a bit like brother and sister — as [puts his arm 

round her and kisses her lips) 

Flor. [rising, goes L.) How dare you, sir! how dare you trifle 
with me in this way ? 

Chas. [rising) Trifle, Florence! 

Flor. Yes, trifle, pretending to be fond of me, when really you 
detest me with all your heart. 

Chas. Detest you ! If I detest you, may 

Flor. Oh! it's useless denying it — you do, you know you do 
detest me, so that every time I come into your sight you grind 
your teeth with disgust — I've noticed you. 

Chas. Detest you ! I vow and declare I love you with all my 
heart, and you know it too; you won't believe it, of course, but 
fortunately I can prove it, past all denying. Here is your renuncia- 
tion — there, I destroy it. [tears it up) Mine shall stand alone. 
You are now the heiress that you wished to be, that you ought to 
be. I love you so dearly, that I hereby absolutely and uncon- 
ditionally refuse to marry you. 

Flor. [aside) How noble of him ! [aloud) I'm sorry, Charley, 
that you have so bad an opinion of me as to think I would allow 
such an act of self-denial on your part, that I would take advan- 
tage of your generosity. No ! [tearing his up) What pleasure do 
you think that money would give me without — without 

Chas. Without — without what, Flossie ? 

Flor. [pettishly) Without — without — if you can't guess, I shan't 
tell you. [he presses her to his heart — Barker enters at same time — 
they see him — both go to piano — Charles begins to play) 

Barker. Now, then, have you two put your heads together ? 
[stops) They have put their heads together, indeed. Instead of 
finding them by the ears, I find them by the lips. What's this, 
what's all this? 

Chas. Well, the fact is, we've considered the matter, and we've 
come to the conclusion that it is better the money should come to 
us than it should go to the dogs ; therefore we have agreed to 
abide by the conditions of 

Flor. Uncle's Will. 

Florence and Charles sing a duet as curtain falls . 

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